


Hashtags

by ice_cream_assassin



Category: Political RPF - UK 20th-21st c.
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 21:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/983748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ice_cream_assassin/pseuds/ice_cream_assassin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this meme prompt: Blame Twitter. Anything about Stella Creasy schooling Fraser Nelson on good music. Gen, romance. Would prefer something cute and light-hearted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hashtags

24-May-2012

He noticed the latest advertisement for a payday loan. Fraser can’t help but think about Stella Creasy and her doomed campaign for caps on such loans. Her crusade garnered her a Spectator award for Best Campaigner and Fraser felt personally disappointed that her amendment was not supported by the government. The way she presented her concern with the rates charged by payday loan companies was pitch-perfect; a great example of opposition politics by highlighting an issue people cared about.

Stella by name, stellar by nature. He posted a grainy picture of the advert to his Twitter. Within minutes, his phone lit up with replies about the image. All supporting what Stella tried to accomplish. He can’t help tweeting an addendum to the photo:

_@stellacreasy has led a brilliant, powerful campaign. Tragic to see her ignored for party political reasons._

And the tragedy of it does show, marring her pretty face with a sad, determined concern for people trapped by loan sharks. 

26-May-2012

**StellaCreasy** _oh drat. I forgot in #eurovision they make you sing live. So mean on the jedward boys. Just look at the shiny people…_

**FraserNelson** _@stellacreasy that didn’t sound live to me. Am worried that their fountain stunt finale may win them more points than they deserve._

She scared her cats off of the sofa when she laughed. If you ignore his deeply Tory nature, Fraser Nelson is an all right sort of journalist. Stella found him personable. And okay, she’s a woman and like most of them, she can agree that he is a good looking bloke if you can get past his adorable yet dickish behavior. And maybe, just maybe with the use of thumbscrews she would admit to wanting him to read the phone book to her in those dulcet tones.

But this… He.Likes.Eurovision. The music snob in her refused to let him off the hook for that. And then she realized just how wrong she was as he started going on about the Russian grannies and Engelbert Humperdinck and the importance of stage theatrics. Like was not a strong enough word for this. He was obsessed with Eurovision. And she knew the nature of obsession well. Loan sharks, Wonga, her constituents were all she was able to focus on these days. Still the playful Twitter banter was a refreshing break from the more depressing things she normally concentrated on.

31-May-2012

Stella is with the other panelists in the green room. Alan Duncan is off on his own with his mobile. Victoria Coren looks like Question Time is the last place she wants to be. And then there is Fraser, with his red tie matching her dress. “Great minds.” He smiles, greeting her.

And out of the present company in the room, Stella decides that Fraser’s presence isn’t that horrible. Until he mentions Eurovision and she scoffs. And then he offers a friendly wager and she tries to stop the giggles but she can’t. Her shoulders shake with the effort and then out comes the laughter. Victoria shoots Stella and Fraser a nasty glare, as if their banter is destroying the calm in the Question Time green room. When she has the giggles under control, she meets Fraser’s calm stare again. “Really? If Osborne can not cut the deficit by the first of the year, you’ll give up Eurovision?”

“Of course. But you have to bet something too.”

Stella doesn’t have a chance to match his ante as the BBC staffer guides the panellists to Dimbleby and the audience. After the show finished, Stella was too focused on returning to her beloved Awesomestow that she forgets the bet. For the time being, she forgets about Fraser too.

3-October-2012

Fraser knows he is probably too old to mingle among the Labour youth and their disco. Yet, he considers it part of his duty to be able to give a full account of all the conferences for the Spectator so he presses on. He wishes for a glass of pinot noir as he checks email and other social media outlets on his phone. Twitter catches his eye as he notices a message from Stella’s newest researcher. He can almost picture her cringing as Gina-G continues to play. She responds with a witty quip about booking a music training session for Jon the Researcher.

Fraser glances around and sees Stella half hovering and half dancing near the dj. And it is just a lark when he sends a private message to her. He never actually expected her to join him for a dance or several. He casts a side eye glance and watches Stella dance in the flashing lights. Her arms sway as her hips shift momentum and balance with lithe grace. He tries to match her tempo, keeping within arms reach. He wouldn’t mind dancing closer to her, but the last thing either of them need are salacious pictures of them grinding to the beat.

"Maybe you should audition as the UK's 2013 Eurovision entry? Show everyone that you got moves." Stella yells over top of Lady Gaga. She grins and at that moment she actually looks carefree for a change; lacking the weight of her loan shark crusade on her shoulders. 

"It doesn't work like that." As the music shifts to something slower and more romantic and soppy, Stella makes to part with his company. Fraser is just a bit reluctant to just let her vanish among the young Labourites. He reaches out and touches her shoulder. "We could go somewhere quieter, if you'd like me to explain how the Eurovision selection process works?"

+++

Stella has read enough of Fraser’s tweets to know that he has a low opinion of his voice. The one that is currently inviting her to learn more about the inner workings of Eurovision and is making her body tingle all over. And his palm is touching her shoulder, radiating heat through out. 

“Come on,” Fraser says with a smile that would rival the Cheshire cat. “You know you’re curious.” And Stella feels like her feminist sensibilities should be offended as he takes her hand, pulling her away from the loud and at times shitty dance music. 

And it starts simple enough, the two of them, alone together. Drinking at a bar, Stella being high and mighty with her music knowledge, not at all impressed with the intricate diagram Fraser has sketched out on a cocktail napkin. Then it gets late and somehow she’s walking back to her hotel with her arm twined with his and his jacket draped over her shoulders for warmth. 

They pause outside the hotel. A hand against his cheek and what is she even thinking? Stella can not afford any romantic entanglements. She moves her hand away only for Fraser to catch her wrist and press his lips against her palm. Always the boys from the dance floors, luring her in with their charm and self-deprecation. She doesn’t want to think of all the practice he’s had and with how many women. 

She doesn’t have the time to even be contemplating a one night stand with him. To be used, to be forgotten once the night is over. Still the air between them crackles with the electricity of attraction. Fraser's line of sight is on her lips and she hasn't stopped herself from inching closer fuelled with want. It was a long time since she looked at someone and her heart raced. 

+++

The thoughts swirling in his head are making him dizzy. Stella, stellar, stars; like her pale skin glowing with some inner radiance. She’s thinking too, about what decision to make outside of her hotel while shivering inside of his jacket. He wasn’t expecting anything more than just dancing and conversation. But she brushed his cheek, and the scent of perfume on her wrist tickled his nose and he couldn’t resist pressing his lips against her hand. He wouldn’t say no if she invited him to go up to her room, but he wouldn’t push for it either. He kisses her wrist’s pulse point and Stella turns away. 

“I can’t.” She finally says, backing away. He is bewildered and speechless as she presses the jacket back into his arms and walks away

4-October-2012 

Morning afters scare her. Nothing happened with the exception that she looked like a flirtatious fool with a Tory-biased journalist. And if dancing and trying to understand how Eurovision works with him wasn’t bad enough. She let him walk her back to the hotel and she almost kissed him. She almost kissed Mr Fraser ‘I-Love-Eurovision’ Nelson. She takes her embarrassed frustration over her behaviour out on the harmless discussion happening on her Twitter feed about successful Eurovision Brits.

 **StellaCreasy** _Why is this Eurovision discussion even in my timeline?!_

 **FraserNelson** _You know you love it, @stellacreasy._

She resists the urge to throw her phone across the room. She blames Jon for even starting the chain of tweets that lead to this. She blames the sweaty throng of Labourites dancing and partying and Fraser for know how to pull shapes. And herself too because as much as her inner responsible Stella chants “Wonga, loan sharks, get on with the One Billion Rising campaign, constituents” there is a smaller voice shouting to add Fraser’s name to that list. She feels faintly heartbroken that she can’t.


End file.
